Cheney was convinced only inferior people would die from a joke. He didn't even like jokes. But he thought he could use this one. He walked over the thick carpeting to his first safe and spun the tumblers: R1, L1, R1. He pulled out the box, a flimsy brown cardboard shoebox and returning to his desk he arranged it in front of his favorite souvenir, the hilt of Saddam's ceremonial saber, and contemplated the shabby box a bit. Then, with a move as sudden as a praying mantis, he snatched the top off laying it to the side. He took out the slightly yellowed paper, blank side up and flipped it over. He read the seven-word question that had killed 13 people nearly instantly. He frowned and read it again. It didn't make any sense. Cheney barked softly and wondered if it'd been a hoax. He pressed his intercom: "Gina, would you come in here for a minute?" Gina appeared and Cheney handed her the paper. "What do you make of this?" Gina looked at the sentence, straightened as if at attention and with a wan smile crumpled to the floor dead. "I'll be damned," hissed Cheney. He retrieved the killing joke and left his office. "Frank," he called for the Secret Service man who appeared instantly, "something happened to Gina – see to it." Cheney was gripped with power wanted to test it again. Gina was no real test. Dubya would be no challenge either and probably a bad idea anyway. Number two had always been the best position to work his schemes and probably still so even at this late date. Too bad Rummy wasn't around -- he had a 50 caliber mind. This might be one of his “Unknown unknowns.” So for a while he stalked the halls, looking for likely test subjects among low-level staffers. Each person he showed it to or read it aloud to had the same reactions: attention, slight smile, drop dead. | 
